


Love Your Daddy

by roses_bees_deer



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Sherlock, Bathroom Sex, Daddy Kink, Hand Jobs, John Has a Beard, Kinky sex, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy John, Twink Sherlock, beard fetish?, italian john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:25:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2476322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roses_bees_deer/pseuds/roses_bees_deer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Watson was the best idea Sherlock ever had. And Sherlock Holmes was the best idea John Watson ever had. They each get what they want and are very, very, very happy with each other.<br/>--<br/>“Dr. Watson- John, may I ask you a question?”<br/>“Sure, baby, anything,” the man smiled, wiping the corner of Sherlock mouth with his thumb.<br/>“Will you kiss me?”<br/>John placed the pad of his thumb on the plumpest part of Sherlock’s bottom lip.<br/>“I would love to.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daddy?

**Author's Note:**

> I saw it on tumblr too many times so I had to write it. They do the do in this chapter.

Working in a coffee shop was not Sherlock’s first choice for a job, but it paid the bills. Technically, the tips paid for the clothes which got the tips which paid the bills. Trousers that tight obviously were not meant to be worn while taking orders and making lattes.

He had a break around two hours after the start of his shift. In the loo, he reapplied his mascara which should Mycroft ever ask, he would deny owning. Sherlock blinked a few times and prodded at the circles under his eyes. He could do this. He could virtually sell himself to these idiots if it meant he could do as he pleased.

One of the other workers banged on the door and told him to get a move on. He could hear from behind the locked door another rush was starting up again. Sherlock opened up and the other bloke rolled his eyes. “How do you get away fucking dressed like that?”

Sherlock brushed past him without another word, not looking for a fight. He needed his pay today and did not want to lose it by getting into another row.

The queue was out the door by the time Sherlock got back to the counter. It started to move a lost faster and a lot smoother with him moving easily between taking orders and making drinks.

He knew his customers very well. He knew how to look at each one, how to talk to each one, to get himself the biggest tip and for them to come back. No matter how many times Sherlock got into fights with the others or broke the rules, his manager could never fire him. Too many regulars only came for Sherlock.

Sherlock started deducing each customer when they were third in line.

Oh bloody hell. Fuck cunt Jesus fucking Christ.

_Mid to late forties, surgeon specializing in cardiothoracic surgery, well off, sure of himself, dressed expensively but understated, self-made, and…_

Sherlock briefly met the stranger’s eyes as he pretended to listen to the mother of two sixteen year olds who came there every day to talk to Sherlock for thirty seconds while he made her mocha latte. The stranger had a beard. From Sherlock’s location, it looked remarkably soft. Well-kept, definitely. Sherlock bit his lip and the stranger smirked.

He handed over the mocha without a word to the woman and she slipped a ten pound note into the tip jar. Sherlock smiled at her charmingly knowing she would be back the next day even if he did not.

The next man before the stranger ordered “the usual.” It took Sherlock a few more seconds than usual to figure out who this one was.

Then, finally, it was him.

“What can I get for you?” Sherlock asked with his most enticing smile.

“Large coffee, cream, no sugar,” the man says. He is shorter than Sherlock physically, but his presence is much, much larger.

“Anything else?” Sherlock asked, selecting the proper cup.

“Dinner tonight? Eight o’clock?” the stranger smirked again, making Sherlock’s stomach do somersaults.

Sherlock laughed, taking it as a joke so if the man were actually serious, he would press it.

“It’ll be two quid,” Sherlock said, looking at the man through his eyelashes.

Doctor Sexy handed over a note wrapped around a business card.

“Keep the change.”

_Doctor John Watson: cardiothoracic surgeon, an email address, and two phone numbers._

John moved out of the way and Sherlock slipped the ridiculously large tip and the business card into his back pocket.

Sherlock was disappointed Doctor Watson did not stick around to be flirted with some more. The rest of his shift dragged on torturously but the nearly one hundred quid in tips paid off.

His flat was not far from the café. He was shouted at on the streets and checked out by more than a few people. He ignored them all. None of them were beneficial. Anyway, his thoughts were elsewhere. He removed the business card from his back pocket and read it as he ascended the stairs of the flat.

There was not much to deduce from the card. Standard issue from the Bartholomew’s Hospital. He set it on the coffee table and sat down, removing his shoes. He inspected the soles of them carefully. They cost him nearly a week’s pay and they were already getting worn out. Sherlock sighed and carefully set them on the ground.

His flat was too expensive. He would not be able to afford the place for much longer.

What else can he do to get more money? Seducing his customers this much is already getting to be too obvious.

The next logical step was straight out. He would not sell himself to strangers. He would give up some parts of his preferred lifestyle before resorting to that.

He picked up Doctor Watson’s business card again. It was only half past six.

He rang him and was answered by a voicemail. He did not leave a message.

Forty-five minutes of brooding later, Sherlock’s mobile started ringing again. He answered almost immediately.

“Sherlock Holmes.”

“Hello,” said the familiar voice on the other end. “I received a call from this number…?”

“Doctor Watson? Sorry, this is Sherlock… You gave me your number this afternoon…” _Stop rambling_ , Sherlock says angrily to himself.

“Oh yes, I remember you. Calling about dinner?”

“Yes, actually,” Sherlock giggled. He did not even fake it. He was horrified at himself.

“The offer still stands. Meet me in front of the café in… twenty minutes? Dress nicely. Not like how you were this morning.”

“Yes, sir.” _Sir? Where the hell did that come from…?_

“Good. I’ll see you then, Sherlock.”

“Bye…” he said weakly as the call went dead.

Sherlock, after a few seconds of stunned silence, jumped into action, getting ready. He only had fifteen minutes if he were going to meet john right on time and he certainly did not want to be late for their first date.

First date…

_Rich doctor, attractive and attracted to Sherlock._

He made himself look every bit as good as he had that morning, but decent. He did not want to disappoint Doctor Watson.

Tight black trousers, expensively tailored to fit him perfectly paired with his tightest purple shirt. He looked in the mirror and sighed, seeing his black pumps in the corner of his bedroom. Not tonight.

He slipped on his dress shoes and started walking towards the café.

Doctor Watson was already there waiting for him. He was dressed differently than earlier, but…

Sherlock bit his bottom lip and stopped his train of thought right there. He would not be able to hide anything in these trousers so he needed to wait until later for _that_.

“Sherlock,” the man smiled infuriatingly at Sherlock who just about melted from the upturned lips under the beard.

“Doctor Watson. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Please, call me John. I’ll get us a cab.”

John stuck his hand out and one immediately pulled over. The door was opened for Sherlock who got in without a second thought.

A few seconds later, John joined him in the back seat, telling the cabbie where to take them: a name of a posh restaurant Sherlock had only heard off, never been to.

The drive was mostly silent because John spent it on his phone. _John_. It was such a boring name. Sherlock did not think it suited him really. Doctor Watson was more fitting. He sneaked a peak at him out of the corner of his eyes.

That beard… Sherlock shivered slightly, thinking about what it must feel like. It was ginger unlike Doctor Watson’s greying blonde hair. In the small space, Sherlock could smell him. The expensive soap and the cologne did not mix well. The cologne must have been a gift. It did not match the rest of his style.

Sherlock got lost in his carefully censored musings about Doctor Watson. He only came back to reality when John cleared his throat. He blushed and got out of the cab while Doctor Watson paid the fare.

It was obvious that Doctor Watson had been to the restaurant before. They were lead to his “usual” table and a bottle of wine was brought to them immediately.

“How old are you, Sherlock?” John asked before allowing the server to pour him a glass.

“Twenty, sir,” he smiled charmingly. John nodded and two glasses of the dark red wine were poured.

“I hope you don’t mind if I order for you. You need a very specific meal to pair well with this wine. Do you like it? Barolos are an acquired taste.”

Sherlock took a cautious sip of the wine.

It tasted like what he imagined Doctor Watson would feel like. Earthy and strong, but deliciously smooth. He felt the warmth of the sip fill him up completely in seconds.

“It’s… amazing,” Sherlock said, his eyes shining across the table as they made contact with John’s.

“Tell me about yourself, Sherlock. What’s your last name first of all?”

“Sherlock _Holmes_ ,” he began with an amused look. “I work in a café… I attended Oxford for less than a month before my forced withdrawal from school… and I like you.”

That brought back John’s smug grin that Sherlock was beginning to fall in love with.

“You _like_ me?” he chuckles. “This wine must be a lot better than I thought it was.”

The dinner continued with just as much blatant flirting. The risotto dish that John ordered for Sherlock made his mouth water before it even got to the table.

Halfway through their matching meals, their feel found each other under the table cloth. Sherlock was going to pull back but the toe of John’s shoe on his ankle stopped him.

They shared the entire bottle of wine and a sinfully delicious dessert which John mostly watched Sherlock eat.

When the tiramisu was brought over, Sherlock knew he was in for quite the treat. He started at the corner and took a bit on his spoon. He placed the spoon in his mouth and slowly sucked it off, humming softly at the richness of the espresso.

After a few minutes of the repeated action, Doctor Watson stopped Sherlock’s hand as he went for another bite. He scooped up a large piece on his own spoon and brought it to Sherlock’s lips who immediately opened his mouth and sucked the dessert off.

“Would you like to come home with me tonight, Sherlock?”

“I would like to very much, sir,” he answered, smiling coyly.

Doctor Watson paid the bill. Sherlock was not inclined to ask after the price or offer to help pay.

Another cab took them to John’s flat. The building was posh and modern. The door man let them in, nodding respectfully to John as they passed.

The lobby was decorated monochromatically and was small. There were two lifts opposite the front doors to which John led Sherlock.

“I’ve lived here for five years and never once have I seen someone else in the lobby. It’s amazing.”

He fished his keys out of his coat and inserted it into the space of the sixteenth floor. The lift began to move.

“How long have you lived in London?” Sherlock asked, looking around at the slightly reflective walls.

“My entire life. And you?”

“Six months? Actually I think it’s seven now.”

Sherlock cold see John’s smirk mirrored in on the wall.

The doors opened right into Doctor Watson’s flat.

“I own the floor. Make yourself comfortable. Would you like anything? Wine? Coffee?”

“Coffee would be brilliant, actually.”

John obviously lived alone. Only his mark was left on the space. The entire floor was open, like a large studio. The kitchen, though mostly unused, had a gourmet stove and two ovens, a French press, and an electric kettle with looked terribly out of place in such a posh setting. John walked over to the French press and considered it for a moment.

“I’ve had this thing for three years and I still haven’t figure out how to use it.”

He opened up a cabinet and extracted a normal coffee pot which matched the kettle.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he smiled sheepishly but it was clearly a joke.

“Feel free to look around,” John said. “This will take a few minutes.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The “sir” put a smile on Sherlock’s face that made him bite his lip.

Saying yes to Doctor Watson was the best decision Sherlock has ever made. His fingers grazed the soft fabrics and smooth finishes of the expensive furniture.

Rich, smart, attractive, and tasteful. Doctor Watson was absolutely perfect.

Sherlock sat down on the large bed in the far corner of the flat. Across from the bed through the lounge, were ceiling high doors that opened up to a balcony overlooking the city.

The flat, if it could even realistically be called that, was heaven.

“So you like it?” John asked, sitting down next to Sherlock on the bed and handing him a cup of steaming coffee.

“Careful: it’s hot. Wouldn’t want you to burn your mouth,” John warned.

Sherlock took his second cautious sip of the night and again it was perfect.

“Doctor Watson- John, may I ask you a question?”

“Sure, baby, anything,” the man smiled, wiping the corner of Sherlock mouth with his thumb.

“Will you kiss me?”

John placed the pad of his thumb on the plumpest part of Sherlock’s bottom lip.

“I would love to.”

The kiss, at first, was gentle. John was testing Sherlock, judging his willingness and experience.

Sherlock was a little overeager, trying to deepen the kiss far too soon. John placed a rough, calloused hand on the young man’s neck and pulled back so their lips were only ghosting each other’s. He took the two cups of coffee and set them aside before pressing their lips back together.

Doctor Watson tastes like their wine and coffee and peppermint. His lips are soft but even in a gentle kiss are dominating. His facial hair… it’s driving Sherlock mad. The hair tickles and tortures his face in the most satisfying of ways. John had not yet moved his hand from Sherlock’s neck and the other finds his thigh.

Just the gentle, beginning touches were overwhelming to Sherlock. John’s actions were so deliberate, so certain that Sherlock had no idea how to reciprocate.

“Lie on your back. Get comfortable,” John whispered, his breath ghosting up Sherlock’s jaw as his lips find the space below his ear.

When Sherlock moves away to lie down, John smiled hungrily. Sherlock’s cock was already straining against his trouser zipper.

“Oh, baby… You’re gorgeous…”

“Please… Daddy, I need you to touch me,” he said, gasping softly as John laid a land on his thigh.

“I’ll take good care of you,” John murmured, hovering over Sherlock before kissing him again.

The feeling on the beard on his skin could make Sherlock come. It was nearly over stimulating. He rocked his hips, looking for some relief for his straining erection. He found Doctor Watson’s thigh and wantonly started grinding on it.

“Please, please, Daddy… Oh…”

John reached down and cupped his bulge, making Sherlock’s eyes close with a delicious moan.

“All of this for me? Such a good boy…”

Sherlock gasped and moaned, “Please- Please- Daddy, I want you!”

“Tell me what you want, baby, and I’ll give it to you,” John hummed against Sherlock neck, the vibrations sending another jolt to Sherlock’s cock.

“Please, fuck me, Daddy!”

John deftly unbuttoned Sherlock’s trousers, his cock springing free.

“No pants? Sherlock… how… indecent.”

John wrapped his hand around the base of Sherlock’s cock but did not do anything else.

“Please!” Sherlock moaned desperately, his hips bucking into John’s hand.

“I think you need to learn some patience, Sherlock. Wouldn’t want this to be over too soon.”

Sherlock looked like he was going to cry as John removed his hand from his length to finish undressing him with care.

“Don’t you worry, love,” John murmured, pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s neck then his cheek. “You’ll get to come. And if you’re very good, you can come more than once.”

Sherlock whimpered, “Daddy…” but did not try to grind on John again.

John pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock’s collar bone, tasting the pale, unmarred skin. The mix of sensations made Sherlock moan again and we was visibly shaking under John, already coming apart.

Sherlock’s back arched off the bed when he felt the graze of John’s beard over his nipples.

“Daddy!” he cried out and gripped John’s waist, his eyes opening widely.

John circled his tongue around the pert nub and -- having realized Sherlock’s beard fetish – rubbed his cheek against his chest.

“Oh, Daddy…” he whimpered, writhing underneath the older man.

“Oh, baby… you’re already so close. Even dressed like you do, I bet no one has ever even touched you? Am I right, Sherlock?”

“Yes, Daddy, you’re right…” he answered, his legs and voice trembling.

“Oh, I’m a bad, bad man…” John murmured. He gripped Sherlock’s thighs and gently moves them. “Spread you’re legs, baby. Let me take care of you.”

“Oh, daddy…” Sherlock whispered, eagerly opening his legs as John removed a condom and a bottle of lube from the bedside table.

John coated a few of the fingers of his left hand in lube, and then, massaging Sherlock’s thigh with his right hand, circles his pink entrance.

Sherlock panted raggedly and could not help but push down against the finger, looking for _more_.

John obliged and slowly pressed the slick digit past the first ring of muscle. Sherlock tensed up and jerked.

“Relax, baby. It’s okay. I’ve got you…”

He relaxed slightly so John continued to push the finger in deeper, making Sherlock tremble even more violently. Sherlock bit his lip hard, hard enough that John knew it would bruise later.

John was impressed by how well Sherlock took the fingering and stretching. After the first was fully inserted, he was gasping and pleading for more.

“Please! Please, Daddy! I want your cock!”

John in no way was going to deny him that.

“Well, since you asked so nicely, love,” he murmured, unbuttoning his own trousers and extracting his half hard cock. He stroked himself to his full length, his eyes devouring Sherlock’s flushed body.

He rolled the condom on and coated his length in lube before lining up with Sherlock’s _adorably_ stretched hole. Slowly, he pushed into Sherlock whose soft, needy whimpers turned into desperate gasps and moans.

“Daddy! Oh, you’re so big! It’s so good! Oh, oh, oh…”

Listening to Sherlock, John lost his control. The speed of his thrusts into Sherlock increased steadily until he was pounding Sherlock’s stretched little hole.

It only took a few thrusts to make Sherlock come, untouched. But he was hard again and begging in seconds.

“Use me, Daddy! Please! Please! Oh, please, fuck me harder!”

John pulled out and growled, dragging his lips up Sherlock’s neck.

“I want you on your hands and knees. Be good for Daddy.”

The young man immediately obeyed, eager to have his release again. It was but moments before John was pounding into him again, this time pumping Sherlock’s little cock in a strong hand.

Sherlock’s voice raised at least two octaves as he got closer and closer to his orgasm.

John could feel when Sherlock came, the walls flexing around his cock as Sherlock’s seed stained the sheets below him.

John continued to fuck him mercilessly until his release, his grip on Sherlock’s hips bruising.

Sherlock collapsed onto his stomach the moment Doctor Watson pulled out and stripped off the condom, tossing it in the rubbish bin.

“Turn over… Lie down…” John whispered gently, cleaning them off with a few tissues which he disposed of as well. He gently covered Sherlock up in the blanket, holding him close and pressing soft kisses to his temple.

“Sleep well, Sherlock,” he whispered.

He did.


	2. Fucking Soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John buys his little Sherlock some lovely things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter in one word: panties.

Sherlock was naturally an early riser so coupled with being in an unfamiliar place, he was up before the sun. He slipped out of bed and John’s warm embrace to explore his flat a little more, picking up John’s discarded button up and slipping it on.

He investigated the French press in the kitchen but was not inclined to experiment with it at such an early hour. He could do that later to impress John. He smiled softly to himself and started a pot of coffee, looking at the digital clock on the face. Sherlock suspected John would be up any minute.

He was right. Just as the coffee finished, John stirred in bed. He watched John feel around for him in the empty bed as he made him a cup: cream, no sugar.

John sat up amongst the ruffled sheets and rubbed his face. Padding over to him and sitting down, Sherlock smiled and held out the coffee.

“Good morning, Daddy,” he smiles, a little teasingly.

John chuckled softly and took the mug gratefully.

“Good morning. I wasn’t expecting you to be up so early.”

“Force of habit,” Sherlock chuckled sitting down on the edge of the bed, still only clad in John’s shirt.

“Did you enjoy last night?” John asked. He had gotten some coffee in his beard which made Sherlock smile.

“Very much…”

“I’m glad. I was wondering if you were going to bolt this morning. I hope you weren’t just looking for a one night stand.”

“No, Doctor Watson, I’m…”

“Don’t worry about it, Sherlock. Are you working today?”

“Yes, sir. But not until this afternoon.”

“Why don’t we go out for lunch later? My treat.”

Sherlock smiled and leaned forward, placing a kiss to Doctor Watson’s coffee flavoured lips.

“I would love to. Thank you.”

“Fantastic. You’re more than welcome to use the shower. We’re going to need to get you some new clothes too… I suppose we could do that this morning.”

Sherlock blinked twice and looked a little confused. Confusion was not something he was accustomed to and he did not like the feeling.

“But I thought you liked my clothes?”

John smirked and ran the back of his hand down Sherlock’s pale thigh.

“I do. Very much. But I don’t want anyone else seeing you like that. I’d get a bit jealous, you see?”

Sherlock smiled softly and nodded.

“I see. That sounds… perfectly fine to me.”

“Lovely!” John smiled. “Go shower and get ready. We can see if your clothes from yesterday are still fit to be worn until we get you something new.”

John’s bathroom was just as posh as the rest of his flat: modern, clean, and elegant. And Sherlock loved it. He could not remember the last time he had taken such a long shower not worrying about how much water he was using and bills.

He could really get used to this. It was not as if Doctor Watson was not perfectly amiable.

Thinking of Doctor Watson, Sherlock started to feel his chest, trailing his hands over his torso and letting the water run down his back. He pressed his fingertips into the bruises on his hips that John had left their last night.

Sherlock could see so much about John just looking around his shower. Doctor Watson was written as plainly as a book in his flat and Sherlock absorbed every detail and filed it away for later. But he had learned not to share. He never did that anymore unless he needed to get rid of someone. It had gotten him into trouble too many times. He relied on people too much now. He was broken.

At least, that was what Mycroft had said when…

John knocked on the bathroom door.

“You okay in there?” he called through the door.

“Yeah, almost done,” Sherlock answered.

Sherlock washed up quickly. He had lost any more time to enjoy the shower by fretting and brooding. Idiot.

John had laid out Sherlock’s clothes on the bed with new socks and pants. Sherlock could not help but smile as he dressed; he would be wearing John’s pants all day.

“When you’re dressed, come eat breakfast. I hope you like eggs.”

“You made breakfast?” Sherlock smiled as he came over to John, sitting down next to him.

Doctor Watson was not dressed in a suit which disappointed Sherlock slightly. He still looked fit though. Sherlock’s eyes were drawn to John’s hands. After seeing the marks they had left on his skin, John’s hands were mesmerizing. John must have seen Sherlock staring at them because he reached out and caressed Sherlock’s thigh.

“Eat up,” John smiled, pushing the plate closer to Sherlock. He watched him over the rim of his mug and hid his pleased smile.

Sherlock did as he was told. He picked up his fork and took a bite of the eggs hesitantly. They were actually good. Very good. Sherlock was pleasantly surprised.

“Do you like them? I wasn’t sure how you like you eggs and all I know how to make are fried.”

“They’re great. Thank you, John.”

Sherlock smiled a little. Calling John “John” felt a little… naughty. Like calling a parent or a teacher by their first name.

“My driver will be here in half an hour. You definitely need at least two good suits then some better fitting clothes and whatever else you’d like. Maybe a new phone or something… something nice for your flat?”

“Oh, Doctor Watson –, “

“Don’t say that I don’t need to or whatever. Just say yes.”

Sherlock smiled and placed his fork down. He leant across the small space to place a kiss on John’s bearded chin.

“Yes.”

After they had both been coaxed by the other to eat a bit of breakfast, they headed out to the shops. John’s car was just as elegant as the one from dinner, but the backseat was a bit more spacious. Sherlock smiled knowingly.

“What’s the grin for, love?” John queried, running his hand down Sherlock’s leg in a way that made Sherlock shiver.

“Just – just you, Sherlock answered with a purposely bashful smile and a bat of his eyelashes.

“No, what are you thinking?”

“I was thinking about you, sir.”

“Really? Or are you saying that because that’s what you think I want to hear?”

Sherlock blinked in confusion again. John chuckled.

“It’s alright. I want to know about you, Sherlock. The real you.”

“But what if you don’t like the real me?”

“I’m sure I will.”

“You’d be the first,” Sherlock countered.

“We don’t have to have a tell-all right at this moment, but I would like you to be honest with me about yourself.”

“And if you decide you hate me?”

“I won’t.”

“I’m just worried.”

“Don’t be. Okay? I’ll take care of you.”

“Why?”

“Because someone needs to and I want to.”

“I can take care of myself.”

John chuckled, “As I could see.”

Sherlock clenched his jaw and looked out the window. He released his held breath when he feels Doctor Watson rubbing his thigh.

“Sherlock, look at me. Please.”

He did, looking into the older man’s eyes. He tried to look strong, to look like he was fine. But it was obvious just by his eyes that Sherlock was not okay.

“Come here,” John said gently, opening his arms up to Sherlock.

After a moment of hesitation, Sherlock laid his head on John’s shoulder and closed his eyes. John rubbed small circles on Sherlock’s back with a strong hand.

“I _want_ to take care of you, Sherlock. I want you to be happy and more than comfortable and to not have to worry about anything.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock whispered. “I appreciate it. Really.”

“Cheer up, love. We’re going to have a nice day, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, tucking his head into Doctor Watson’s neck. The beard tickles his nose.

“Just promise me one thing,” Sherlock said, smiling a little.

“Anything.”

“Never shave.”

John’s laugh filled the car and lifted Sherlock’s mood visibly. When they arrived at the store, Sherlock was a little nervous. He did not know why; he had no reason to be.

No. No, he did know why he was nervous. He was worried that dressed in proper fitting, nice clothes, John would not be attracted to him in the same way.

John guided Sherlock into the store with a firm hand on the small of his back. He led him over to the suits first and an associate the John recognized came over to assist.

Stepping back, John watched Sherlock and the other man pick out and try on different style, lending an opinion here and there when Sherlock looked to him for one. He preferred Sherlock in black or navy rather than grey. He preferred silk shirts over anything else on Sherlock’s skin. He insisted that all of the trousers and jackets were to be tailored. John selected five suits, seven new shirts, three pairs of trousers, and a leather jacket for Sherlock.

“What else do you want, Sherlock? Anything.”

“Some new shoes… would be lovely. Something for work, please,” he answered with a shy smile. He really did feel shy now after everything that had happened in the car and being so thoroughly examined by Doctor Watson.

Sherlock for the life of him could not decide between two pairs of shoes: one black, one brown, both leather, and both disgustingly expensive. And he was not even being indecisive to get John to buy him both even though that’s exactly what he did.

“I want to get you something else too,” John said when they were alone. The associate had stepped away to bring the shoes to the rest of their purchase. “What else? What would you like?”

Sherlock’s eyes flickered to a pair of gorgeous high heels. The red sole and the spike made Sherlock’s mouth absolutely water. John followed his gaze and smirked. He picked up the shoes.

“These?”

Sherlock bit his lip and nodded.

“Sit down. Let’s see.”

It was like a fairytale. Dashing prince slipping a gorgeous shoe onto the damsel in distress. Sherlock cringed internally at the irony. But, the shoe fit.

“Stand up. Let me see,” John said, climbing to his feet and stepping back.

Sherlock took a turn in the shoes, the heels clicking satisfyingly on the floor.

“Oh, those are gorgeous,” John crooned. His hand found Sherlock’s hip and he rubbed over the bruised area through the thin shirt.

“You know what look lovely with those?” John practically purred. He gave a suggestive look towards the women’s lingerie section.

Seeing Sherlock’s face light up sealed it for John: Sherlock was perfect.

John told the associate – Daniel, his name – to shove it for a few minutes while they pursued their options. Sherlock noted that again John was drawn to silk. He licked his lips subconsciously every time Sherlock touched something silk. Sherlock finally settled on a lace corset which would cover just his abdomen, leaving his nipple bare. Silky pantie, garters, fishnets, the whole nine yards. Doctor Watson absolutely insisted.

John made sure that Sherlock would not hear the price of everything they had bought which made it obvious just _how much_ everything was.

Daniel and another associate brought their bags to the car and stowed them in the boot. John – and Sherlock, but mostly John – decided to take a stop at the tailor before going to get an early lunch. John while they were at the tailor had to take a call for work and stepped out. Standing on a pedestal getting pinned into the suit was not nearly as fun as Sherlock expected with Doctor Watson not watching. The whole process seemed to drag on for centuries as Sherlock did not even pretend to listen to the tailor prattle on about nothing. The man was basically glass. He saw right through him within seconds.

“How are we doing?” John asked as he slipped back into the room, tucking his phone into his jacket pocket.

“Fantastic,” the tailor said. “Almost done. He doesn’t wiggle around like you do. You could learn a thing from him.”

John smirked at Sherlock in his reflection in the mirror.

“I’m sure I could.”

Sherlock swallowed a little nervously and the room suddenly got a bit hotter. John took a seat in one of the plush armchairs, evaluating Sherlock. He was _very_ pleased.

The tailor finished fitting the final suit and Sherlock stepped down from the pedestal to change.

“Change into something I got you. I think there was some things in the bag with the shirts,” John said, standing up and brushing off his lap.

Sherlock stepped into the dressing room, carefully taking off the pinned up suit and hanging it up on the hook. He caught a look at himself in the mirror, standing in John’s pants next to the most expensive thing he had ever owned. He laughed to himself. One of the bags from the store was on the floor. He picked it up carefully and sifted through it until he found something casual to wear.

He got a little distracted; on the bottom of the bag were the corset and everything. He slipped out of John’s pants and put the lingerie on then put the new clothes over them.

The silk pressed against his length, making his knees shake. He touched himself through the trousers and panties, his cock twitching in interest.

“You alright in there, Sherlock?”

“Yes!” Sherlock stuttered nervously. He picked up the bag and opened to door of the dressing room.

John _knew_. Sherlock could tell he knew that he had put them on.

“How do they feel?” John asked. “New clothes: they must be more comfortable than your old ones.”

Sherlock flushed. Doctor Watson had the special ability to make him fill like a complete and utter (horny) idiot.

“They’re perfect. Thank you, Daddy. I mean, John.”

John’s smirk seemed to be permanently etched on his face when Sherlock talked. Sherlock honestly could not blame him. If he was going to call him _daddy_ in public, he deserved it.

“Are you hungry for lunch yet? It’s still a bit early. We could stop at your flat or something…”

“If we’re going home, I’d rather go to yours,” Sherlock admitted.

That bloody smirk.

“I’d like to see _your_ flat, Sherlock. To see if we need to replace anything, you know. Get an idea for presents. Christmas is in a few months.”

Sherlock was panicking internally. There were some things that definitely should not be seen by John in his flat. He could not remember what he had done with the needle last time he had hit up. And if Doctor Watson found out that he was a drug addict, he would either dump him or make him quit. And neither of those options appealed to Sherlock one bit.

John’s phone started ringing again and the man frowned.

“Maybe another day. I have to go into work. When is your shift?”

“At twelve,” Sherlock said, shifting self-consciously.

“We need to get you to work then. Don’t want you to be late.”

Sherlock was silent as they went back out to the car. John, not the most perceptive of men, was confused with the sudden tension between them. He opened the door for Sherlock and the younger man got in first without a word to John.

John took another call for work as they drove to the café to drop Sherlock off at work. Something was obviously wrong. John did not work as a surgeon for the majority of his work. He would perform surgeries on people who requested him, but now he worked mostly in an office. Sherlock had already deduced that, but exactly what Doctor Watson did was made clear by the conversation.

“I know that Doctor Petersen has an ongoing malpractice suit, but he is the best neurosurgeon that we have. And believe me, he will be on his best behaviour. He will be supervised… Mrs. Hall – Mrs. Hall if I thought there were a better surgeon for your husband’s surgery, I would not hesitate in recommending them.”

Sherlock looked out the window and sighed. As he shifted, the silk rubbed up against his cock _just_ the right way. He moaned softly and rested his head on the window, his fingers moving to press against his groin.

John stuttered when he realized what Sherlock was doing. The call ended quickly after that.

“What are you doing?” John demanded calmly, putting his phone in his jacket pocket.

“Sorry, Daddy, the silk feels so nice,” he moaned softly.

“Really? Givemeafeel.”

John sat up a little and unbuttoned Sherlock’s trousers. He slipped his hand down the front and palmed Sherlock’s length through the slinky fabric. Sherlock melted under the touch, his eyes falling closed and his lips parting. Sherlock’s perfect, little cock filled out in Doctor Watson’s strong hand.

“Tell Daddy how much you like it,” John purred in Sherlock’s ear, his beard ticking Sherlock’s neck.

“So much, Daddy. It feels so good. Oh, Daddy…” he continued to moan. His breaths came quickly and deeply as he dragged his hands over his own thighs and chest.

Doctor Watson cradled Sherlock’s cock in his hand, the panties hardly doing anything to keep it contained

“God, you’re beautiful, Sherlock. You’re so good for me. Such a good boy.”

"I want to come, Daddy. Please," he whimpered and pressed his hips into Doctor Watson's palm.

John gave Sherlock a gentle squeeze and the little squeak of a moan did terrible things to him.

"Mm, Daddy, please, I want you," Sherlock whined desperately as the car rolled to a stop.

John looked out of the window and sighed. They had arrived at the café.

"Later, love. You've got work."

"You can't just leave me like this!" Sherlock cried indignantly.

"I promise: Later will be better. Get going. We don't want you being late."

Sherlock pouted for a few more moments before hanging his head, fixing himself, and opening the door.

"Have fun, love. I'll come by later towards the end of your shift."

Sherlock nodded sullenly and closed the door before trudging away, still pouting.

It did not make John happy to have to leave off where they did. It took the mental recitation of a number of _intricate_ medical procedures to make him presentable for work. Meetings with desks and suits and overcomplicated terminology was his work. He missed the days of working in the operating room. But, he could not do it any longer.

And neither could Sherlock. He did not have the will to flirt with painfully boring strangers. John had given him too much excitement and too many high standards in such a sort time that the café, his regulars, and all of the things he had needed to worry about before had become entirely insignificant. He was so lost in these thoughts – these really fucking good thoughts – that he did not even realize who had walked through the door until they were right in front of him.

* * *

NOTE: This is [My Tumblr ](http://www.jumperswatson.tumblr.com)if you want to follow me for updates and shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to post. I can't promise any regular intervals that I can update in. It all depends on how busy my life is. I think the next chapter will be up within a week, but no promises. Kudos and comments and stuff motivates me so just bug me until I post a new chapter. Hope you liked it!


	3. Coffee Must be an Aphrodisiac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A patron sows some doubts, but does that make any difference?

It had been Mycroft who decided to darken Sherlock’s day. The conversation went as they always do with thinly veiled contempt and childish insults mostly from Sherlock directed at his older brother. It was as expected. Mycroft did not approve of his “attachment” to John Watson.

The conversation was cut short by the growing queue behind the older Holmes, but Mycroft did not leave. Oh no, he would not just leave Sherlock alone. Sherlock stewed in his annoyance as he made three blended coffee drinks that could rot teeth on contact for obnoxious teenage girls who could not have been more than three years Sherlock’s junior. Mycroft, observing from a table by the door, was horrified by the comparison. Though Sherlock was technically a legal adult, he was far too young to be in a relationship with a middle aged man. Doctor Watson’s age was closer to their parents’ than their own, for Christ’s sake!

However, Mycroft had to admit that Sherlock did look happier than he had in months. Perhaps years even. For once, Mycroft did not know what to do. The situation was delicate, but no more so than the diplomatic situations he encountered on a daily basis. It had to be sentiment. Obviously he cared for his brother deeply, family ties and all that. It would pain him to create such a rift between his brother and himself or expand the one already between them.

Mycroft made up his mind and left the café while Sherlock was not glaring at him. He would give Doctor Watson a chance, but he would be ready to intervene should it be necessary.

* * *

John was stressed, a common state for him lately. Left and right problems kept popping up all over his hospital. He had a broken MRI machine, three OBGYNs out on their own maternity leave, and an understaffed A&E on top of an on-going malpractice suit with one of his top surgeons. He never thought running a hospital would be easy or boring, but he would rather be spending his time thinking about a cute piece of ass that he would be picking up for dinner at five.

He laughed to himself softly at that ridiculous thought. Sherlock was so much more than a piece of anything. There was something truly special about the young man.

Emphasis on the young.  John cleared his throat and shifted at his desk. He was certainly more than twice Sherlock’s age. That really should be something that concerns him but it only makes John want him more.

He never thought he would be a sugar daddy if that is the right term. It was not something he set out to be but now that he is in the situation, it just seems right. The relationship was mutually beneficial. John got Sherlock and Sherlock got whatever he wanted. It was not traditional, but it seemed to be working for them.

John sat back in his chair and let his mind wander away from the worries of the hospital. He was unsure about the boundaries of his relationship with Sherlock. Would he want to see him again that day? Would dinner be too pushy? The last thing John wanted to do was drive Sherlock away after dropping so much money on him already.

Sherlock was still wearing the new clothes which made John’s smirk return. The panties and corset must be uncomfortable especially if Sherlock were still turned on by their fraternizing in the car. John made the decision then that it would not be presumptuous to assume Sherlock would go out with him again that night. They had unfinished business to take care of.

John timed the rest of his work to be finished before the time Sherlock’s shift ended. He wanted to be there to pick him up for dinner. They would not go to a place as posh as their first date, but it would not be fish and chips either, as much as John would like to watch Sherlock licking grease and salt of his fingers. But, for now, they would be having Italian. John makes reservations at the best Italian place that he knows besides his Nonni’s kitchen.

His mother had been Italian. She died when he was still a baby. She had lung cancer from years of smoking. He had lived in Italy with his mother’s family until he was eight and his father wanted to go back to England. Any Italian he learned there was severely impaired by years of only speaking English to his father and in school. Thankfully, most of his family who lived in Italy still spoke English as well. It would be nice to take Sherlock there some time. He owned a little place in Lazio to stay to tour Rome and, maybe in a few months, Sherlock would want to meet his family up north. His ancient _nonni_ still lived in the house that his mother had grown up in and his aunts and uncles were all in close proximity. They were all loud and overbearing and wonderful. He missed Italy desperately but he did not want to go back as the only single cousin.

But, the reservations. John was on a first name basis with the owner after the man had a heart attack in his own _ristorante_ and John was the only doctor in the house. John even replaced his aortic valve himself. Carlo was a good man. He never paid full price, ensured by Carlo’s brother Angelo who now ran the restaurant so Carlo would not be on his feet.

John needed to make a few more phone calls before going to yet another meeting with the board of directors. He really could not fire the surgeon with the suit no matter how much easier it would make everything. The final decision would be left up to the board about what to do with the doctor.

He rang up a few of the hospital’s lawyers to get a sense of what they felt about the situation before he went to the board room. The meeting was agonizingly slow and john just wanted them to make a decision. He knew it was unlikely to happen today, but the politics and nuances of running a hospital were beginning to drive him mad. He vowed to work at least until his fifties before retiring, but he was really getting to old for this shit.

Of course, all of the board members wanted to speak to him privately after. John let them talk, nodding in agreement while he daydreamed about Sherlock’s adorable, little cock.

John snuck out of the hospital at his first opportunity, his driver picking him up right at the front of the hospital. He turned his mobile on silent and relaxed against the leather. He asked to be driven to the café. The driver did not need to ask which.

Sherlock’s shift had not ended yet when John arrived so he was still behind the counter. John strolled right up to Sherlock at the till and smiled.

“Cream, no sugar,” John said. “Want to save the sugar until you’re not working.”

Sherlock laughed brightly, his heart beating a little faster when he saw John.

“How long were you sitting on that one?” Sherlock teased as he poured the coffee into a ceramic mug.

“Thought of it in the car actually. How’s the shift?” John took the offered coffee as he asked. He fished out some money from his pocket wallet and handed it over to Sherlock who rang it up.

“Dreadfully boring. My brother stopped in earlier.”

“You have a brother?” John raised an eyebrow.

“Two actually, but my younger brother… well, that’s a story for another time. But yeah, my older brother Mycroft.”

“Mycroft Holmes? That sound familiar,” John frowned as he took a gulp of the coffee.

“He probably made a donation to your hospital or something. He does things like that.”

“That’s nice of him. How is he?”

“Dreadful and manipulative,” Sherlock said, snorting.

“Oh, lovely,” John joked. “How long until you’re done for the day?” His eyes drifted down Sherlock’s chest like he could see what Sherlock was wearing underneath.

Sherlock shivered under John’s practically _hungry_ gaze. He could keep it together until John wanted him, then he was turned into this whimpering mess of needs and emotions. No wonder Mycroft was concerned. What was happening to him?

Doctor Watson happened. He made Sherlock feel and it felt so good to be with him, to feel like he belonged to him. Sherlock had no reason to believe it, but he trusted John to care for him as a lover and to take care of him like he already had in the short time they knew each other. He wanted to stay with Doctor Watson and be what John needed him to be, whatever that may be.

But, Sherlock was scared. He never had experience with any type of romantic relationship or even a healthy friendship. For once, Sherlock did not know what to do. John felt right, but so did cocaine and Victor and both were bad ideas. Mycroft was right. He was still young. He did not have enough experience, but, he was so torn.

“I’m not twenty yet,” Sherlock blurted out, panicking.

John was slightly taken aback, confused about where that came from.

“Oh, well, you don’t look a day over eighteen?” John joked, trying to gauge Sherlock’s feelings.

“It’s just, my brother said that I might be too young for you, and I’ve never really been in this kind of relationship before and…” Sherlock trailed off. He let his emotions trail over his face, hoping John understood what he meant.

John did not. “So, you want us to… stop doing this?”

“No!” Sherlock yelled, turning all the heads in the café. He blushed a little bit, flustered as he ran around the counter and pulled John into the back by the toilets. John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock and the young man released his arm. John straightened his cuff and looked up the frazzled teenager.

“I understand if you’re not comfortable, Sherlock. You need not feel obligated –,”

“No, shut up, that’s not what I meant. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I don’t even mean your money or anything! Please, you, you, you’re the best thing that – I already said that – you make me feel like I’m special and you don’t even really know me and I want you to know me and I want to be good enough for you and I want you to love me and I want to stay with you even though I know I’m too young and an idiot about these things but I promise I can learn and I can be good enough for you –,” Sherlock said at a mile a minute, totally hypnotizing John.

“Wait,” John finally interrupted, holding up a hand and silencing Sherlock instantly. “First of all, Sherlock, I’ve never done anything like this either. This is new for both of us. And of course you’re special. You’re gorgeous and I want to know you more too.”

“You were divorced,” Sherlock said, having a eureka moment.  John was reminded of Sherlock’s orgasm face, stunned and fucking gorgeous.

“I was how did you know that?”

“You were in the army when you were young, but you only served in the Gulf War, where you must have been injured since you never served again. Either that or you had another health concern that wouldn’t let you serve in Afghanistan or Iraq. The need for doctors is and was great and you were an established medical professional and still a soldier. But… you know that. And you don’t have any existing medical problems now. Something else then. You were living out of the country? Yes. You had a wife, she was pregnant, wasn’t she. A wife in I’m going to say Italy but… something happened.”

Sherlock’s deductions were met with a few long moments of silence.

“How- How could you possibly know any of that?” John finally said to the growing tension.

“I- I’m sorry. Doctor Watson, please.”

“I mean, that was brilliant! And totally correct. How did you know?”

Sherlock blushed bright red. “I just… deduced.”

“ _Just_ deduced? Sherlock, that’s brilliant!”

“It’s… really? You really think so?” Sherlock asked with the most adorable expression of hope john had ever seen.

“Of course it is. Of course,” John said, shaking his head in amazement.

“I can do it with most people. Mycroft can too…”

“But, how?” John reached out and touched Sherlock’s arm.

“I try not to… people don’t like it normally. The things you had in your flat helped with most of it. And your posture. It still has traces of your military career.”

“Brilliant. You’re absolutely brilliant,” John smiled, reaching up to cup Sherlock’s cheek.

Sherlock’s heart was beating so fast Sherlock was sure John must have been able to hear it. His stomach was doing backflips as John leaned in to kiss him.

“Gorgeous and a genius. What are you doing with a man like me?”

Sherlock whimpered softly and presses his hips forward. “Daddy… Please.”

“God, Sherlock, you are… just amazing,” John praised softly, pressing his palm against Sherlock’s crotch. Sherlock had to press his hand over his mouth to muffle his moan.

John chuckled softly and pressed a kiss below Sherlock’s ear. “Let’s pop into the toilet for a mo?”

“Please,” Sherlock shuddered, already looking wrecked.

John guided Sherlock inside of the cramped loo and locked the door behind them. Before he could even breathe, Sherlock practically pounced on him. John caught Sherlock before they could both fall back against the door.

“Woah, hold on there,” John said, stroking Sherlock’s hair and pulling back. “I’ll take care of you, Sherlock. Don’t worry.”

John smiled at him and Sherlock’s knees turned into jelly.

“Sorry, Daddy,” he whispered, bowing his head.

“No worries, love. You just relax.” John ran his thumb over Sherlock’s cheekbone before unbuttoning Sherlock’s trousers. He slipped a hand down the front of Sherlock’s crotch and pressed his palm against the silky fabric encasing Sherlock’s straining little prick.  

Sherlock could not help but let a few whimpers escape as John teased him. A high whine pushed its way out of his throat as John pressed his hips up against the door.

“Please, please, please, please, make me come,” Sherlock panted and begged pitifully. It did not take much of anything to get him back to where he was in the car earlier.

“Oh, love, you’re so precious. You’ll get to come. I take good care of you, don’t I?” John gently removed Sherlock’s little erection from the panties and ran his thumb over the tip. John teased the pulled back foreskin with a smirk that made Sherlock buck into his fist.

Sherlock was nearly sobbing as John teased him.

“You’re so sensitive. Fucking beautiful, you are.”

“John, John, Doctor Watson, please, I need –,” Sherlock gasped but the rest of his plea was turned into a moan as John started to stroke him. Sherlock’s head fell back against the door and his back arched up off the wood as he gasped.

John was enraptured. The first time they had been together, both of them were dulled by the wine and the food, but now it was so painfully sharp and beautiful. Sherlock was absolutely enchanting in a way John had never experienced with a lover.

Sherlock’s moans were getting higher in pitch and John was pulled back to the task at hand. He tightened his fist around Sherlock’s length just slightly and Sherlock cried out so suddenly that John jerked in surprise.

“No, no, no! Please!” Sherlock sobbed when John stopped. “Don’t stop! Please!”

John wrapped his arm around Sherlock’s arched back and kissed him hard and he pumped him to completion, grapping a tissue and catching Sherlock’s come in it.

“Daddy,” Sherlock whimpered softly, totally and completely spent, as John cleaned him up and put him back in order.

“Finish up your shift, and then we’re going to dinner,” John smiled fondly, pressing a gentle kiss to Sherlock’s plump lips.

John stepped away to wash his hands and Sherlock watched him in the mirror with wide eyes, still coming down from his orgasmic high.

“Thank you,” he said softly. John looked up and stroked his beard, sending another shudder through Sherlock’s body. Doctor Watson grinned at him with soft eyes that Sherlock would never, ever give up if he could help it.

“You’re welcome. I wish you could see yourself like that. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Doctor Watson, can I ask you a question?” Sherlock asked with a softer voice.

John turned and nodded, “Yes, anything.”

“Am I the first man you’ve been with?”

John sighed softly and scrubbed at his hair before nodding. “Technically, yes.”

“If I weren’t me, I wouldn’t have known,” Sherlock smiled a little bit.

John chuckled and stepped away from the sink. “Wash your hands before you back to work. Then dinner.”

Sherlock giggled and washed up before going back out behind the counter. They got some glares from the other employees and some of the patrons who were near enough to hear their activities.

Sherlock made Doctor Watson a new cup of coffee before attending to the rest of the queue. John took the seat that Mycroft had sat in earlier and watched Sherlock while he worked. It was amusing to watch other people flirt with Sherlock. He knew that Sherlock belonged to him and nothing was going to change that.

But it was fun to watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long! I've been so busy with the holidays and I was sick AND I had a hard time starting this chapter a way I liked. I reread the previous chapters and decided I didn't like my style so let's see if this is better.


End file.
